


All I Want For Christmas

by 6mgs7



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: All the words, Christmas, Fluff and Smut, I'll Edit When I'm Dead, M/M, Yoober, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6mgs7/pseuds/6mgs7
Summary: Mickey gets drunk and shares his secret Christmas wish with Santa. Will he get everything he wished for?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 31
Kudos: 153





	1. THURSDAY

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fucking Endgamers Always](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Fucking+Endgamers+Always).



> written 12-25-2017; Christmas gift to EG
> 
> Poorly edited. All mistakes are my own, and I'm sure there are plenty.

"Hey! Assface!” Mandy banged her fist on the bathroom door, “Come on Mickey! What the fuck are you doing in there? You better not be jacking off in the shower again, I swear to god, if I find cum on the shower wall again I’m gonna kick your ass!”

Mickey pulled the door open, nearly getting punched in the face as she went to bang her fists again. 

“Bitch, please. We both know you didn't buy a new shower head to ease your fucking _shoulder_ tension.”

“Whatever, get out. You’ve been in here for almost an hour and you’re not even dressed. What the hell were you doing? Never mind. Please, god, don’t answer that.”

He flipped her off and pushed her to the side so he could exit, then pulled the towel from around his waist and tossed it over his right shoulder, exposing his bare ass as he headed down the hall.

“Goddamn it, Mickey, stop walking around here naked!”

This time he raised both hands up in the air and gave her a double _fuck you_ salute, wiggling his ass as he went, “Just be happy I already took care of my wood… you’re welcome.”

“Asshole," she muttered, knowing it was useless to argue.

“Hurry up, we’re gonna be late," he chuckled, knowing that the hour he’d spent in the bathroom had put them behind schedule. 

He went to his closet and pulled out several shirts. Red, no. There was no way he was showing up looking like some festive fucker, even if it was the holiday season. Green – same problem. Black – he held the shirt up against him, knowing he looked damn good in black, with his pale skin and dark hair. He turned his head in a few different directions looking for his best side in the mirror… fuck if they weren’t all his best side.

“MICKEY! Don’t you fucking dress like you’re going to a goddamn funeral!”

He stared at his bedroom door bewildered, and wondered how the fuck Mandy knew he was about to put on his favorite black dress shirt. Was he that predictable, or was it that he’d worn the same shirt to the last four dress-up events they had gone to? Probably both.

He tossed the shirt onto the bed with the others, and went back to searching his closet when Mandy rapped on his door. He opened it to find her standing there in a dangerously short and shimmery dark blue dress that dropped just as low on top. It fit her like a glove – a really fucking tight glove. Mickey gave it a quick up and down, with a disapproving frown.

“Did you fuckin' paint that thing on?”

“Shut up – I plan on getting laid before New Year’s, hopefully tonight, by a hot fireman." She held up a gift wrapped box, “Here. Maybe this'll help you get laid too, then I won’t have to disinfect the shower before I get in every day.' 

He grabbed the box excitedly from her hands and started ripping away the wrapping paper.

"I wasn’t gonna give this to you until Monday, but it's either this or argue with you for the next ten minutes about wearing all black again, so just… Merry Christmas.”

“Sweet! I didn’t get you anything. Yet.. I mean.” He confessed.

“Yeah, I know." She said, as if he didn't leave his Christmas shopping to the last minute every year. "Just make sure whatever you get me is fucking expensive and I'll pretend you didn't wait 'til the last second to get it.” She walked off to her room to finish getting dressed. “You’d better look fucking hot, Mickey. I’m not kidding – I don’t need you bringing down my game tonight.”

***

They went through a fast food drive-thru on the way downtown. Mickey had argued that all the fancy shit on crackers that they tried serving at those events hardly passed for food and never enough to fill him up, so Mandy finally gave in to his bickering to eat before they got there.

“Don’t you put any fucking taco sauce on your food," She warned, knowing how careless he could be, "You're not walking in there with shit down the front of your shirt.” 

He glanced down at the dark blue shirt she had given him and the black slacks, thinking they'd hide a little taco sauce well enough. He looked great, and he knew Mandy was right – he was bound to get taco sauce all over himself while eating and driving. Perhaps he should have gone with a jacket instead of just a scarf. Fine... no taco sauce, but he argued with her anyway – it’s just what they did.

“The food taste like shit without taco sauce.”

“I don’t care, I said no. We’ll get food after the party if you’re still hungry.”

"Fine, but I can't fuckin' be out until three in the morning, Mandy. I gotta be up at early for work."

"Stop acting like a grumpy old man, Mickey. Jesus Christ, you're only a year older than me. You can afford to lose a few hours of precious sleep."

'Who the hell has a Christmas party on a Thursday night anyway?' He grumbled.

"Rich people, that's who. They don't have to work tomorrow." She checked her lipstick in the mirror and readjusted her boobs in her dress for full effect. 'Don't worry, we're just gonna drink the free booze and look at hot guys. If I don't snag one by 11 we'll leave."

He ordered their food, asking for extra Fire sauce, and by some small miracle, managed to eat 3 burritos without dropping any on his clothes as he drove. Mandy, on the other hand, kept bitching about his driving, cleaning the lettuce and sour cream that had somehow gone down the front of her dress.

Mickey rolled his car into the hotel parking lot almost an hour late.

“Pull up to the doors. Let the valet park it.” Mandy pointed to the line of cars waiting at the front door.

“No! No fucking way I’m paying for valet parking when there’s a free parking lot right here.”

“I’ll pay for the valet, Mickey, you fucking cheapskate. Just do it. I’m wearing 6-inch heels, there is no way I’m walking through snow.”

Reluctantly, he turned into the line to wait his turn. When it was his turn, he tossed his key's to the valet, “Be careful with her. She’s delicate.” 

“You got it, Sir. Kid gloves.” the Valet promised.

Mickey jogged around the front of the car to catch up with Mandy, and gave her a strange look when she wrapped her hand around his arm for balance. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

“New fucking shoes," she explained, trying to ignore the pinch in the toes. By the look on Mickey's face, that wasn't enough of an explanation for her to be hanging off his arm. "I’m not falling out here like some drunk bitch who can’t handle her CFM’s.”

“The fuck is a CFM?”

“The shoes. Jesus, Mickey. I thought everyone knew what CFMs were. How are you gay?”

They walked into the lobby of the hotel, as he bounced around possible meanings of “CFM" and shrugged when he came up blank. The elevator filled with people headed to the ballroom on the 56th floor for the Fireman’s Ball, all of them dressed in evening attire. Mickey and Mandy were definitely under dressed for the occasion, but neither seemed to notice or care. She had won the tickets from a radio show just two days earlier, and convinced Mickey to go by playing up the "Date a Fireman Auction" that was being held to raise money for the Children’s Hospital. While the idea of seeing two dozen hot men dressed in little more than a pair of boxers and rubber galosheshad been enticing, it was the promise of an open bar that had finally won him over. 

The elevator doors opened into the ballroom where hundreds of people were already mingling to jazzy Christmas music. Waiters dressed like penguins were walking around with trays full 'shit on crackers' and flutes of champagne. Mickey grabbed three flutes and handed one to Mandy, polishing off one himself in a single long gulp. He set the empty flute on a tray nearby, and began drinking the second glass.

“Please tell me they have a real bar here, and not just this shit.” He complained as he downed the second flute and set it aside.

Mandy pointed to three different spots around the room where small crowds were gathered around them – she had zeroed in on the real alcohol the minute they stepped off the elevator. 

“Don’t you fucking dare get so wasted that I have to drive your ass home." She was on a mission to get lucky, and with any luck, Mickey would be heading home alone before the night was over.

He looked at his watch and did the math – he at least three hours of hard drinking before he had to sober up for the ride home. Fuck it, he thought. There was always _Yoober_ if he got too drunk. He pulled his arm from Mandy and took off for the bar, nearly knocking her off balance in her CM-whatever-the-fuck-ever shoes and making her spill champagne down the front of her dress.

“Asshole!” She called after him as she reached out for balance. Her hand fell into the open palm of a nearby gentlemen, his other arm reaching around her waist to help steady her.

“Whoa, easy there. Are you ok?” 

He was tall and slender, looking absolutely fabulous in his black tuxedo. His strong hands wrapping themselves quite naturally around Mandy's waste. She immediately reached her hands around his shoulder and smiled.

“Well, I am now. Aren’t you a cool drink of water.” Subtlety had never been her style. She licked her lips and pulled back just enough to get a good look at him, clearly undressing every inch of him with her eyes. Her fingers tightened slightly around his arm when he loosened his hold on her, making him chuckle. She could be dangerous, to the right man. She giggled back.

“Uhm. Thank you, I guess. I’m Ian.” He let go of her waist and held his hand out to her. She held her own out in return, which he raised to his lips and kissed gently. 

_Holy shit,_ she thought, _Sexy and a gentleman._ She was all in. 

“Mandy. Pleasure’s all mine.” She kept his hand in hers.

“Was that your boyfriend?” He asked, as a gentle reminder.

Mandy’s mind raced? _Boyfriend? What guy? Was there a guy? Oh shit! Mickey_ –

“Oh, No!" She said with a grimace. "No, not my boyfriend. No, that was just my brother in search of a drink.” She pointed to the bar where Mickey was making his way to the front of the line. Ian looked over and unconsciously grinned.

“Your brother, huh?” His eyes stayed glued on Mickey.

Mandy caught the way he was watching her brother, which was a far cry from the way he had looked at her, “Are you fucking kidding me,” she burst out.

He looked back at her, her face clearly annoyed now, “I’m sorry, did I miss something?” 

“No. Not you. Me.” This time she looked at Ian with new eyes. Hi bright red hair was impossibly perfect, as if he'd spent hours in the bathroom getting it just right. His clothes were impeccable. He was beautiful and perfect and everything she wanted to take home and ravage, but there had been something in the way he had looked at Mickey that was missing now as he looked at her. 

She bit the bullet and just asked, “Are you gay?”

Ian cocked his head at her, as if astonished. He looked down at the way he was dressed – black tuxedo, pretty much identical to 90% of the men in the room – and wondered what could have possibly made her ask that.

“Is it that obvious?” He asked.

“Not your clothes. Jesus, you look… like everyone else. But the way you just looked at my brother’s ass gave it away. You were practically wearing my boobs a minute ago, and you didn't even notice.”

Ian laughed, and gave an innocent ‘sorry’ shrug of his shoulders.

“What the fuck ever. I should have known he’d find some fucking guy to go home with him before I did.” Mandy grumbled.

“Wait a minute... What does that mean, exactly?” 

Ian’s heart skipped, but Mandy immediately regretted her words. Sure, Mickey was gay, and yes, he occasionally brought home some guy from the bar for a quick fuck on the weekends – but he didn't go around advertising that shit.

“Uh. Nothing. That didn’t mean anything.” She started towards the bar, but he followed before she escaped. 

“Are you sure?” He had a pleading puppy eyes, begging her to throw him a bone. She glanced at her brother, then back at Ian.

“Look, I’m not saying a goddamn thing, ok?" but the look on her face was plenty.

“Come on. Do I look like a bad guy to you? I’m make a good living, I work out, I eat my vegetables, I love my family. Just… help a guy out, would you? I’ll introduce you to any fireman here tonight if you just give me something to work with.”

Mandy considered what he’d said – trading Mickey’s in exchange for some hot fireman seemed fair enough. It wasn't like she was trading national secrets, or anything. 

“Fine! Come on, I’ll introduce you, but play it cool. Mickey's not the kind of guy you want to fuck around with. He'll your goddamn balls off if you fuck this up, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” Ian held his arm out for her to take hold of and gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Mickey was ordering two whiskeys when she approached the bar, “Make it three.” She told the bartender. 

Mickey turned and saw the red head she was holding on to. He drank Ian in slowly, from head to toe, just as Mandy had done moments earlier, then turned to the bartender again, “Three… and make them doubles.”

“Mickey, this is Ian. He’s said he knew the firemen, isn't that right Ian?”

Ian smiled, keeping his eyes on Mickey, drinking in the blue eyes twinkling in the Christmas lights and getting lost... Mandy elbowed him in the ribs.

“Huh? Oh yeah. That’s right.” He held his hand out to Mickey, who hesitated, put off by the awkward look Ian was giving him. At last he reached out to shake, and Ian held on just a second longer than necessary.

“So, does that make you a fireman too?” Mickey asked. 

“No, not a fireman. I’m an EMT at the fire station." The bartender came back with their drinks, and Ian quickly reached into his pocket for a tip. He handed each a glass and held up his own as if to toast. "To new friends. Cheers.”

Ian sipped at his drink, licking the whiskey from his lips, and catching Mickey staring. 

“Aren’t you going to drink? It’s bad luck to toast and not drink.”

Mickey threw back the shot in one take, then set the empty glass on the bar, rapping his knuckles on the wood, “One more please.” He told the bartender.

***

Mickey and Mandy sat at a table near the dance floor where they could make fun of all the snotty rich assholes. Ian, who was there as part of the fundraising team, and was busy mingling with the other guests. He made his way back to the sibling's table to talk as often as he could, mostly with Mandy while Mickey sat quietly, taking it all in. Conversations with strangers had never been Mickey’s strong point. He could laugh and bullshit all night with people he knew, but it took a lot of alcohol to get him to warm up to someone new. The more Ian came to sit with them, the more Mickey was warming up, but he couldn't quite get a handle on Ian. When Ian was at their table, he was laid back and a little rough around the edges, laughing and joking and fitting right in. But each time he left, he slipped right into the elite and lavish lifestyle of the people that surrounded them. 

Ian was flirty with the women, often letting them grope him on the dance floor, and engaged in conversations with the men. He worked the crowd, often looking back with a smile at Mickey's as the night wore on. It was all starting to irritate Mickey more than anything.

It was nearly 10 Ian came back to the table carrying a tray of shots. He took a seat, casually scooting his chair an inch or two closer to Mickey’s as he did, and loosening his tie a bit.

“Ready for the show?” He asked excitedly as he pointed toward the stage in front of them. The music stopped playing and an MC came to the microphone announcing the start of the Annual Fireman Auction. The crowd cheered, including Mandy, who whistled loudly with two fingers as a long line of near naked Fireman took stage to the sound of loud music now playing overhead.

Ian widened his legs under the table, his knee gently tapping against Mickey’s, but his eyes never leaving the stage. Mickey wiped the palms of his hands along his thighs, his eyes also staying glued to the men on stage, but his mind fully engaged on the feeling of Ian’s leg touching his own.

“Which one are you going to bid on?” Ian asked, looking directly at Mickey. Both Mickey and Mandy returned his look, each of them slightly taken aback. Then Ian turned his gaze to Mandy, and asked again, “Mandy? Which one?” Mickey continued to look at him wondering what Ian had meant by that little comment, clearly directed at him the first time.

She thumbed through the program on the table. It was a menu of sorts, listing each Fireman’s name, years of service, hobbies and favorite foods. “Well, if I had any money, I’d probably choose….” She matched one name in the program up with a fireman standing to the center right of the stage, “Him!”

“That guy will probably run you about … eh, ten grand.”

“No. Fucking. Way!” Mandy spurt out.

Ian nodded. “Plus, I’m pretty sure he has the herps.”

Both Mandy and Mickey curled their lips up, “Ew!”

Ian pointed to a handsome firemen standing to the far left. “He’s bi – but you don’t want to date him - he's a cheater and an asshole. Sleeps with anyone.” He pointed out a few more out, giving up little secrets on each of them.

“Are you just saying all of this so you don’t have to introduce me to any of them?” Mandy asked.

As if on cue, a GQ looking man walked up to the table, “Hey Ian, sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. Are these the friends you were telling me about?” His eyes and smile fell to Mandy.

Mickey wasn’t up to meeting more people and took that as his opportunity to go grab a smoke. He pushed his chair back after brief introductions were made, then excused himself, headed for the double doors leading out onto a balcony. It felt good to get out of the hot, crowded room. He breathed in the cold air and relaxed, wondering how much longer he had to stay. The view from of the city was breathtaking, but as he peeked over the glass wall of the balcony looking down, it was dizzying. 

“Pretty incredible view, isn’t it?” Ian asked, startling Mickey and making him jump back from the edge.

“Uh, yeah. Shouldn’t you be inside with your buddy?” Mickey asked. He reached around his pockets feeling for a lighter. Ian stepped up to him quickly, cupping his hand near Mickey’s cigarette as and striking a flame off his own lighter.

“Actually, I was looking for an excuse for you and I to get away from there.” Ian answered. Mickey flashed his eyes up toward Ian, surprised. Ian quickly corrected himself, “I just meant, so Jeff could talk to Mandy, alone, you know? He’s a nice guy. She’ll like him.”

Mickey took a deep puff, his eyes staying on Ian’s, trying to figure him out. “What about you? Do you like him?”

“Jeff? Yeah, he’s a nice guy. Not really my type, I guess – he talks a lot.” Ian leaned up against the glass railing and looking out at the city, “I kind of like ‘em…quieter, I guess.” He turned his head toward Mickey who exhaled smoke into the cold air, looking as sexy as fuck,

“Yeah, well you fuckin’ do enough talking for two people... I guess.” Mickey smirked. He offered his cigarette to Ian. Ian’s fingers brushed against Mickey's as he took it. He could taste the whiskey on the filter that Mickey had been drinking all night.

“So, did you see anyone up on stage you wanted to bid on tonight?” Ian dared to ask. 

Neither Mickey nor Mandy had needed to confirm Mickey’s preference for men – it had become obvious all night by the way Mickey’s eyes had stayed glued to Ian. Ian had caught him looking more than a few times, and each time Mickey had been worrying his bottom lip, holding Ian's gaze. 

Mickey turned to face Ian directly. Typically, he wasn't so bold, but he'd had enough to drink, and the whiskey was making him more assertive than usually.

“I saw something I wanted, but it wasn’t on stage.” 

He handed the cigarette back to Ian, who stepped closer to Mickey. They were just inches apart now. Ian tipped his head taking another drag, and this time Mickey made no secret of the way he was enjoying watching Ian move. He wanted to taste Ian and he had every intention of doing just that. 

The doors behind them flew open, the loud music from inside the ballroom disrupting their moment.

“Ian, there you are. We need you back inside.” 

Mickey stepped back instintively, putting a foot or two between him and Ian, and looking out over the city again.

“Hey Sue, what’s going on?” Ian handed the cigarette back to Mickey, which was quickly ignored, so he dropped it to the ground and scratched it out with the toe of his shoe.

“We’ve got some rich ladies in there asking where the cute red head went off to, that’s what’s going on! Come on, you’re working, remember?” She nodded her head toward the crowded ballroom, urging him to move.

“Ok, yeah. I’ll be right in.” He turned to Mickey who was now walking further down the balcony, “Hey Mickey... Catch up with you later?”

Mickey held one hand up, waving him off without looking back, as he went further away, “Whatever, go work. I think I’m calling it a night.” He pulled out his phone to send Mandy a text.

Ian watched him go, wanting to follow, but Sue called him back. “Ian, come on!”


	2. FRIDAY

Five o’clock felt like it took forever to come around. Mickey had been dragging his ass all day long on the job, exhausted from the lack of sleep he'd gotten the night before. Even though he’d fallen short on taking the red head home with him last night, thoughts of Ian had kept Mickey up well into the early hours of the morning.

“Hey Mickey, you coming to the bar tonight for a few drinks?” One of the guys called out as Mickey headed for the L.

“Nah, man. Told my sister I’d drive her to the mall to finish Christmas shopping.”

He pulled out his phone to text Mandy to make sure she'd be ready to go. He hated shopping, but it was either that or get drunk again and he was trying to make better choices, which meant less drinking and smoking. He lit up a cigarette as he headed home. All the lights were all on when he drove up to the house, and the house smelled like chicken and broccoli when he walked in, which caught him by surprise considering he did most of the cooking. Mandy's best meals came from a fast food bags. It had never smelled this delicious before when she was in the kitchen. He tossed his jacket on the bench next to the door and kicked his boots off, leaving them in the middle of the hallway.

“Mandy! Who the fuck is cooking?” He called out, heading to the kitchen. He turned the corner and found her pinned up against the counter with Fireman Jeff’s tongue down her throat.

“Oh shit, I didn’t know we had company.” Mickey went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. He kept his eye on Fireman Jeff as he drank, trying to place him. 

“Mickey, you remember Jeff, from the party last night? He works at the fire station with Ian.”

The mention of Ian’s name caught Mickey's attention. Fireman Jeff reached out a hand, but Mickey ignored it, offering a quick nod of his head instead. 

“Anyway, Jeff made us dinner.” Mandy gave Mickey a look, her brows raised, letting him know that by “us” she hadn’t meant ‘him.’

“Yeah, I can smell that. What happened to shopping tonight?” Mickey asked indignantly, as if he had been looking forward to shopping all day. The truth was, he really just wanted to get into his boxers and a t-shirt and sit in front of the Xbox all night, but it didn’t look like that was going to be possible with Mandy's date in the house either.

Mandy shrugged, “You really want to go shopping?” She knew he didn't.

Mickey flipped her off, grabbed another beer from the fridge, and headed for his room.

“Good to see you, Jeff. Tell Ian I said hello.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized what he had said. _Tell Ian I said hello??_ He wanted to run back into the kitchen and scream, ‘No! Don’t tell Ian anything!’ but it was too late. 

Fireman Jeff call back, “Will do!”

Mickey changed out of his work clothes into a pair of baggy jeans and a ratty t-shirt. He was pulling on a hoody when Mandy invited herself into his room and sat on the bed.

“So, what happened with Ian last night?” She asked.

“What’ya mean what happened? Nothing fuckin’ happened. I came home, alone, and you went and got your clock cleaned by Ol’ Jeffrey Boy.” Mickey grabbed a pair of boots from his closet and sat next to her on the bed.

“Yeah, asshole. I know all that. I just meant, why the fuck didn’t you jump his ass? He was eye fucking you all night long, Mickey. Hell, he came right out and told me he was interested in you when I first met him.”

Mickey’s head shot up to her, “He what?”

“Yeah, when we first got there, I thought he was hitting on me, but turns out he was just trying to meet you. I can’t believe you fucked that up.”

Mickey tied his boots and started stuffing his pockets with his phone, wallet, and keys.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that last night?”

“I didn’t think you needed a fucking map to his dick, asshole. Thought you knew how to find that shit yourself.”

“Fuck you.” He said without heat. “I’m going out.”

“You going to the bar?”

“No, I’m going to the fucking mall. I still need to do my shopping, even if you’re too busy with Fireman _Fred_ in there to do your own.”

“His name is Jeff.”

Mickey pulled his heavy winter coat on over his hoody. “I know what the fuck his name is. You’d better make sure you get my fucking present, bitch, and it better be good for standing me up tonight.”

'I gave you a shirt last night.' Mandy argued.

'Doesn't count. You gave it to me early... plus it was clothes _and_ you yelled at me when you gave it to me. Terrible fuckin' present.'

He headed for the door. “Hey Mickey. You wanna go to another Christmas party tomorrow night?”

“No.” He said firmly.

“Come on. Fireman Fred – fuck, I mean Jeff – said it’s their fire station party. They’re having it down at that dive bar, The Alibi. Free food… cold beer… Ian’s probably gonna be there.”

Her last words stopped Mickey in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at her, defeated by the idea of seeing Ian again.

“Why the fuck would they have a party at The Alibi?”

“South Side firehouse. Weren’t you paying attention when Ian said that last night? Come on, Mickey. How bad can it be? It won’t be a bunch of pretentious assholes like it was last night, I promise.”

He ignored her pleas. “I gotta go. If Fireman Fred is spending the night, move your fucking bed away from the wall. I don’t feel like being up all night because you can’t keep the banging and moaning shit under control.”

Jeff stood at the kitchen door, wide eyed at hearing Mickey’s statement. Mandy grabbed a pillow and threw it at Mickey’s back,

“Fuck off, Mickey,' the ran up to the door before he closed it behind him, “Hey Mickey, just think about tomorrow night, ok? It’ll be fun.”

Mickey spent the next three hours walking around the mall, going in stores briefly, only to turn right back around again when he’d see the crowds of people mulling around. Store after store, he managed to walk from one end of the mall to the other without buying a single thing except a hot pretzel and a soda. His phone vibrated in his pocket.

_Mandy: Fireman Fred wants to know if you want Ian’s phone number_

Mickey’s heart skipped. Yes! Yes, he fucking wanted the number, but there was no way in hell he was going to tell Fireman Fred that.

_Mickey: Why the fuck would I want that?_

_Mandy:_ 🖕🖕 _Your loss, asshole. Just trying to help._

_Mickey: Don’t._

Mickey slipped his phone back into his pocket, but took it right out again a moment later.

_Mickey: What time is the party tomorrow?_

_Mandy:_ 😊😊 _any time after 8_

Mickey took one last sip of his drink then tossed it into the trash bin. His mind raced back to this closet at home and immediately settled on the black button-down Mandy had been dead set against him wearing the night before. He glanced at his reflection in the glass window of one of the stores and ran his fingers through his hair, then headed to the far end of the mall to a salon for a haircut. He didn’t want to buy anything new to wear tomorrow – that would look like he was trying too hard – but a clean haircut always looked nice. He'd pick out a new cologne before he left the mall as well. Mandy was always complaining that he smelled like a 90-year-old man when he wore Old Spice. He sent Mandy one last text.

_Mickey: You bought me cologne for Christmas. It’s going to be expensive. Thank you._

_Mandy: Fucker_


	3. SATURDAY

“Ian! Come on! Everyone's already leaving, what are you doing?” Fiona yelled up the stairs at her brother who had been in the bathroom since she got out of there thirty minutes earlier.

“I’m coming, Jesus Christ.” He came bounding down the stairs dressed in old faded jeans and a green t-shirt. He grabbed a black garment bag hanging by the front door and a pair of mid length black leather boots off the floor before heading for the door.

“You gotta be kidding me – you were in there all this time and you still come out looking like this?” she waved her hand up and down at him as if to demonstrate his less than impressive attire. “What the fuck were you doing?”

Ian smiled as he took the front porch steps two at a time, “Don’t ask.”

“Ew, Ian! Don't be disgusting. I thought you were getting ready"

“I told you not to ask. And Vee told me to get dressed at the bar. She needs to do my make up or something."

They arrived at the Alibi just before 7 carrying in boxes of food and decorations. Ian’s brother Lip left three large boxes filled with lasagna at the buffet tables, then went straight to the bar for a drink.

“Hey Kev, gimme a beer, would ya?” He asked.

“How’s it going, Lip? Tell me again, why is Ian having his work party here tonight?”

“They put the ambulance crew in charge of planning this year’s party. Ian figured he could offer more free beers if he spent the money they had on alcohol instead of renting a hall, so I guess your place won.”

Kevin handed him the beer, “All right, I guess I’m ok with the the extra business, but a room full of cops might not be so good for our local clientele.” He and Lip looked down the bar, eyeing what Kevin considered 'local clientele'. There were three regular customers there: Kermit, Tommy, and Frank Gallagher, Lip’s own dad. Frank was passed out at the far end of the bar, slowly slipping from the bar stool. Lip walked up and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey Frank. Cops are on their way. You got any outstanding warrants we should know about?” Lip asked.

Frank’s head popped up, a sudden alertness in his eyes, “Cops? Who the fuck called the cops on me? Can’t a guy get a decent nap anymore without getting sent to jail? I pay my goddamn taxes, I should be able to lay my head down for five minutes in peace after a long day...” He gathered his jacket and stumbled from his stool, still ranting about the unjust treatment of neighborhood drunks as he walked out into the cold night.

Lip looked at Tommy and Kermit. “You two got any warrants?”

They looked at each other and shook their heads, “No, I got no problem with cops.” Tommy answered.

Kermit agreed as he finished the last of his beer, “Me neither, I’m clean.” He gathered up his jacket and followed Frank out the front door without another word.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” Lip said as he watched Kermit scurry off. He followed Kermit and posted a “Closed for Private Party” sign on the outside of the door.

***

Eight o'clock rolled around and the entire bar was decked in tinsel and lights, courtesy of the rest of Ian’s siblings who he had hired cheap to work for the night. He had been upstairs in the little loft apartment with Kevin’s wife, Vee, getting dressed in the Santa Suit she had borrowed from the nursing home she work at three years earlier. Normally Kevin wore the suit, and not necessarily at Christmas time or even outside of their bedroom, but Ian didn’t need to know that. All he knew was that suit pants were too long for either of his brothers, and with Kevin behind the bar, that only left Ian who was tall enough to fit into the suit.

Fiona came in to check on their progress, “How’s it going up here? Almost done? We have quite a few folks with their kids starting to show up downstairs, Ian. You need to hurry and get down there before it gets too late.”

He was clad in red velvet from head to toe, with his hair pulled down tight into a net. Vee was putting the final touches on his makeup. Fiona took one look and gasped, “Oh my god! Vee! You did an amazing job! Ian, have you looked at yourself? You look like a real Santa, it’s incredible!”

“We had all that make up and costume putty left over from Halloween, so I just thought I’d try it out on him. You don’t think it’s too much?” Vee asked.

“No, not at all! He looks amazing, Vee.”

Ian took a look in the mirror and was equally as impressed. Vee had molded a round bobble nose and cheekbones from putty, then used spirit gum to attach a very realistic beard and mustache to his face. She'd polished it off with make up, adding wrinkles around his eyes and forehead, and some white mascara to color the tips of his lashes and eyebrows.

“Sit down where I can reach you. I gotta get this wig on you.” The wig was the pièce de résistance, finishing off the festive look.

“Holy shit, I’m Santa Claus.” Ian said as he took a final look and spin in the mirror.

“Holy shit is right," Fiona agreed. "Vee you should get paid to do this, he looks fantastic!”

Vee held her hand out, “I take Visa, Mastercard, and Amex, but I prefer cash.” Fiona smacked a hi-five into her open palm, then pulled Ian to the door.

“You’re up, big guy. All your friends brought plenty of kids to keep you busy for a while, and a lot of them are little, so don’t go getting drunk too early and killing their illusion of Santa Claus.”

Ian grabbed a thick leather band of jingle bells and headed for the stairs. As he got to the bottom he began shaking the bells and calling out a hearty, _“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merrrrry Christmas!”_

The crowd began to cheer as Santa Ian entered the room, and children ran up close for hugs as he made his way to the front. Ian’s eyes fell immediately to the curly haired elf, Lip, who was talking to the Mandy at a back booth. Fireman Jeff had his arm wrapped around Mandy’s shoulder as he talked to other couples in the booth, but Mandy’s bright smile and attention were on Lip. Ian glanced around her table for Mickey but was disappointed. 

When Lip headed back to the bar, he stopped momentarily in front of Ian, “Holy shit! _Ian!?_ That’s fucking incredible man! You look great!”

“Yeah, well you look like you fell out of a tree and should be carrying Keebler cookies on a tray.” Ian laughed. Their younger brother Carl came up, dressed similarly as Lip, but looking less than amused with his elf costume.

“I changed my mind – you owe me $100 bucks for making me wear this ridiculous get up. I just tried hitting on that chick over there and she laughed me off like I was some Wizard of Oz munchkin or something.”

“I’ll give you the $50, like we agreed, along with any tips you make.” Ian said, glancing at the woman Carl was pointing at. “And that _chick_ is my Chief’s wife, so do me a favor and don’t talk to her any more tonight. Just do your job.” Ian caught Mandy staring at Lip, “That goes for you too, Lip. Don’t fuck around tonight, especially with her.”

“She’s hot, man. Look at her. She’s undressing me with her teeth from across the room!”

“No, Lip, I’m not kidding!” Ian insisted.

“Who is she, anyway? She was asking if you here yet. Apparently she doesn't recognize you in the suit." He took another look at Ian's costume," Vee threw down! I swear if I didn’t know if was you under there, I’d think you were some old fat fucking Santa.”

“Yeah, well, just do me a favor. Don’t tell her it’s me. Don’t tell anyone. If they ask, just tell them I’m in the back working or something.”

Lip and Carl went back to the bar to fill more beer orders. Ian took a seat on the big comfy chair Kevin had brought down from the loft to be used as a throne. Fiona went to the front of the bar and whistled with two fingers to get everyone’s attention, killing the Christmas music playing on the jukebox.

“We have a bunch of little ones and their families who are going to be leaving soon to get to sleep, but before you go, Santa's here for just a little while to hear your Christmas wishes! Everyone come and line up!”

Mickey stood at the pool table watching as a dozen screaming kids ran to get in line to see Santa. He had been searching the room for Ian since he arrived, but so far Ian was a no show. Mickey checked his watch, trying to decide if he should leave or stick around a while longer and risk looking like some desperate guy waiting for Ian. He caught Mandy's attention long enough to get a shrug of her shoulders. It was still early. He decided to give it another hour, then he was calling it a night.

Ian took each child on his lap, one at a time, talking to them in a deep, jolly voice, listening to their Christmas wishes. His youngest sister Debbie stood nearby taking their Polaroid picture, then handing them a candy canes and moving them out for the next kid in line. Ian's coworkers were raving about the great Santa he had hired for the party, none of them realizing it was him beneath the disguise. It was well after ten when the last kid left the bar, giving Ian his first chance to get a real drink

As he approached the bar, already overheated and tired of the suit he was wearing, when Fiona come rushing up. “Ian, leave the costume on! We have a ton of people asking you're gonna stick around for their pictures as well.”

He glanced around the room, a heavy sigh escaping him. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the hot costume and make up and join the party.

“Ok, but now that the kids are gone, I’m drinking.”

“That’s fine, just hurry up and get back over there.” She said, swatting him on his butt as she walked away.

Ian leaned against the bar, exhausted and hot.

“What’ll it be Santa?” Kev asked.

Ian was about to order an icy cold beer when a familiar laugh caught his ear. He looked over at the pool tables and saw Mickey leaning over with his cue stick to take his next shot. He was dressed in black jeans and a black button-down shirt, his hair cut short around the sides with the long strands slicked back on the top, and a few runaway strands falling over his forehead.

“Two double whiskeys.” Ian answered, keeping his eyes glued on the blue-eyed beauty. Mickey dropped the eight ball in a corner pocket, then began collecting his winnings from this opponent. Kevin poured the drinks and slid them across the bar.

Mickey downed the last of his beer as a new player set up the next game. Ian walked up behind him, speaking in his deep Santa voice, “Hi young man. Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

Mickey jerked away at the sound of his voice, his fist ready to swing, before he saw the ancient man who seemed to be hitting on him. He grimaced, but didn't swing, “Uh… shouldn’t you know the answer to that already?”

Ian held a glass of whiskey out to him, “Here, I bought you a drink.” He knew his disguise was good, but surely Mickey could see him underneath it, he thought. Mickey ignored the offer and reached for the cue chalk on the pool table. “Don’t you remember me?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t, old man. Think you might have me confused with someone else. And, uh, I don’t drink whiskey, but thanks.”

Mickey grabbed the white cue ball to set up his first shot, hoping the creepy old Santa would leave him alone, but just as he was about to take his shot, Santa Ian walked up behind him and goosed him in the ass before stepping back.

“Hey, fuck! Watch it asshole! Seriously. I don’t know who the fuck you think I am, but I’m not your guy, ok?” Mickey balled his fists. He wasn’t sure if punching a pervy Santa was bad karma or not, but it was only going to take one more move on Santa’s part before Mickey hit him.

Ian laughed and held both hands up in front of him in surrender, ready to explain himself, but before he got a word out, Fiona was at his side. She took the two glasses of whiskey he was holding and placing them next to Mickey’s empty beer glass, then pulled Ian away, taking him back to work. Mickey watched him disappear with a scowl on his face, then took one of the double whiskeys and downed it in one gulp.

“Fucking pervert.” He mumbled. He grabbed the second shot, his eyes still glued to the pervert Santa who was now seated and staring back at Mickey. Mickey held the shot up in the air, and flipped pervert Santa off with the other hand before taking the shot in one swallow.

Ian grabbed Fiona’s arm before she could walk away again, “Hey Fi, see the guy over there in black? Make sure he has a shot of whiskey in front of him all night long. Just keep them coming and put it on my tab.”

Ian spent the next hour with drunk men and women taking their turns on his lap, getting group pictures, couples pictures and just plain old silly pictures of themselves kissing Santa. Everyone had stopped asking if Ian would be coming soon, and were just having a good time dancing and frolicking the night away.

When the line to see Santa slowed down, Mandy came over to get a picture. She slid onto Ian's lap, his arm wrapping around her waist firmly as he asked in his sexiest, bedroom voice, “Have you been naughty or nice this year, little girl.”

Mandy pulled her head back a bit and grinned at the pervy old man. She squinted and took in every minute detail of his face curiously. It only took a few seconds before she busted out laughing, then touched her forehead to his, placing both of her hands on either side of his beard, “Holy fucking shit! I thought you were some pervy old fuck trying to get in my pants! I just realized you’re nothing but make up!”

She lifted the sides of his wig just a little, “Who’s under there, let me see you? Are you fucking hot?” She giggled, “Not, like ‘hot hot’… I meant, aren’t you burning up in this thing? I’m hot and I barely have anything on compared to you”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh himself, as she examined him closer, wiggling into his lap and getting up close and personal. She let her hands run down his shoulders and biceps, “Shit, you feel really good under there. How old are you?” she asked.

“Old enough to know that this is naughty… and a little nice.” Ian teased. He waited for her to recognize him, but it was clear Mandy was too drunk to see straight, so there was little chance of her figuring it out.

“Hmmmm… well, I can’t see what you look like, but you have fucking beautiful eyes, Santa Baby.”

Debbie was getting tired of watching the brunette feel up her gay brother, and cleared her throat loudly, “Excuse me, are you going to get a picture or not? There are other people waiting.”

Ian looked around – there wasn’t a single other person in line at the moment, but Mandy rolled her eyes and spun herself in Ian’s lap for the photo. Just as Debbie lifted her camera to take the picture, Mandy turned and grabbed Ian by the face, planting a wet kiss on his lips, catching him by surprise! He returned a chaste, innocent kiss to her slightly open lips, then pulled back quickly when Debbie announced, _“Next!”_

Mandy gave him her wicked signature smile, making sure to rake her breasts as close to Ian’s face as possible as she stood up.

“Keep my seat warm, Santa. I’ll be back soon for another picture soon.”

As she walked away, Ian’s grip loosened on the arms of the chair. He waved off the next person approaching, telling Debbie he needed to take a bathroom break really quick. He stopped at the bar to order a cold beer before heading for the bathroom. Once inside, he pulled the red velvet hat from his head and the wig setting them onto the window seal. He pulled the net from his hair, then turned on the cold water, wetting his fingers and running them through his hair to cool himself off. The bathroom door opened and Ian instinctively grabbed the velvet hat to hold up in front of his face, forgetting that all the kids were long gone by then.

Mickey walked in, catching pervert Santa with his hat over his face.

“Sorry. My bad. I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

He pulled the door closed behind him and walked back to the pool table. There was a fresh shot of whiskey waiting for him when he got there. He knew he shouldn’t drink it, because he had a strong suspicion that the Santa himself was sending them over, but who was Mickey to turn down free booze? Besides, he’d kept his eye on Santa all night long, making sure he stayed a safe distance. He had only lost track of him for a moment, which was the moment they met up in the bathroom.

Ian put himself back together in costume, wig, hat, and all, then made his way back to the bar for his first cold beer of the night.

“Hey Ian, how many more shots you gonna send that guy?' Kev asked. 'I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen anyone drink as much as him and still stay standing.”

Ian looked over at Mickey who was leaning forward to take his next turn at the pool table. His hands were as steady as could be, as if he hadn’t had a drop of liquor all night. Mickey dropped the number 10 ball into the pocket then moved to the other side of the table, catching pervert Santa's gazing at him. He took a second to flip him off before taking his next shot.

“As many as he wants.” Ian answered, winking at Mickey just for fun, which earned him an irritated scowl. He'd given up on the idea of talking to Mickey tonight. With the constant interruptions and Mickey's apparent annoyance, Ian decided it would just be better to get his number from Mandy and try again later when there were less distractions and less chance of getting punched.

He took his beer and headed back to his throne for a few more group pictures, but his eyes stayed on Mickey while Debbie snapped the pictures.

It was ten past midnight when Mickey checked his watch again. He felt pathetic and stupid for staying as long as he had, but marked it off to the free booze and easy money he was making hustling the other players at the pool table. On any other night that might be considered that a win, but Ian had never showed, and Mickey decided it was time to cut his losses and leave.

While Ian and Kevin may have thought Mickey was handling his whiskey like a champ, the truth was Mickey had been seeing double for the past hour. He pulled his phone from his pocket to order up an Uber, then went to check on Mandy to make sure she was good to go with Fireman Fred. As he started for the door, Mickey noticed pervert Santa watching him again. He went to flip the old guy off, but at the last minute he had a change of heart and decided to take it a different direction instead. He waiting for the couple on Santa’s lap to finally leave, then made his way up to him.

Ian leaned forward as Mickey approached. Mickey bit at his lip and tapped his knuckle against his nose. He tried to find the right words without offending pervert Santa too much, while also not encouraging him in any way.

“Hey, listen – I uh… Thanks for the drinks tonight. That was you, right?” Mickey pulled his wallet from his pocket and pulled out two twenty-dollar bills to hand him. “Here, let me pay you back. I was being an asshole and probably should have just paid for them myself.” He slurred his words and wavered a bit as he stood there.

Ian shook his head at the bills Mickey was offering, and smiled. “You're not driving yourself home, are you? You’ve had a lot to drink.”

“Nah, I called for one of those _Yoober_ cars, you know. I’m good. Here, take the money.”

“No, it was my pleasure.” Ian pushed Mickey’s hand away with the cash. “You sure you don’t want to sit on Santa’s lap and take a picture before you go?” he asked, patting his lap and grinning.

Mickey’s brows shot up onto his forehead. His smile spread across his face - Santa had balls, that was for certain. He shook his head and laughed as he put the money back into his wallet, the pocket of his billfold swimming in his vision, then tucked it in his back pocket. 

“You’re fucking relentless man, you know that?” he answered.

Ian smiled. “No strings attached.” He leaned back in the chair and pat his leg once more, inviting Mickey to take a seat. “I’ll even keep my hands right here.” Ian placed his hands on the arms of the chair beside him.”

Mickey looked around the room, feeling ridiculously over exposed, but everyone was busy talking and laughing and paying no attention to him at all. The girl with the camera was busy talking to one of the elves, and Mandy’s wasn't even looking his way, so there was no chance of catching shit from her later if he gave in.

“Fuck it. All right, but no fucking around, got it?” Mickey tapped the camera girl’s shoulder to get her attention, then stepped up to Ian. He felt like a fucking tool sitting on Santa’s lap, but the truth was Mickey had never sat on Santa’s lap a single time in his life, and if it meant getting felt up for 10 seconds from a dirty old man for a fucking Polaroid picture, he was just drunk enough to think it was a good trade.

Mickey's swayed off balance a little as he took a seat. Ian's hand slipped around his waist and pulled him in closer to steady him.

“Hey! I thought we agreed no fucking around.” Mickey warned.

Ian adjusted his leg beneath Mickey, then removed his hand again. “I was just getting comfortable.” He held a finger up to Debbie to have her wait a minute, then looked at Mickey again. Mickey’s eyes darted to Ian’s then away nervously. He’d never felt so out of place in his life, but the whiskey in his blood was making him bold so he stayed put on pervert Santa’s lap.

“So, I asked you once before – have you been naughty or nice this year?”

“You’re seriously gonna keep fucking asking me that?” Mickey said, looking Ian straight in the eyes. Something, some indescribable feeling, moved between them at that moment, catching Mickey off guard. He went to stand, nearly falling off Ian's lap, but Ian’s hand fell around his waist again and settled Mickey back down. Mickey gave in, mostly because it was easier to sit than to stand at the moment.

“Ok, fuck –' Mickey answered. 'If I were a betting man, I’d say I was on the Naughty List.”

Pervert Santa laughed – not a pervy laugh, but a genuine hearty laugh. “Why’s that?”

“Shouldn’t you know why? You’re Santa, right?” Mickey asked.

“Yes, I guess I should, but I’d still like to hear it from you.” Ian waved at Fiona near the bar and held up two fingers. A few seconds later she was heading over with two shots of whiskey. “Here… one more shot for the road. Maybe it will make you brave enough for confession.”

“Are you a fucking priest now?” Mickey asked, taking his shot in one swallow as was his style. Ian followed suit and set the empty glasses on the seat next to him.

“No, but I promise to let you go catch your Uber if you answer the question.” He said.

“No, that’s all you need to know about me. I’m on the Naughty List for sure.”

“Ok, then tell me what you want for Christmas before you go,” he asked.

Mickey’s skin was warm and tingly, that last shot being the one to finally push him beyond his limits. He was on the horizon of Bad Decisions and wasn't likely to remember a single one of them come morning. He knew he should leave, but sitting was just so much easier. He gave Santa a lazy, beautiful drunk smile then leaned in close to his ear. “All right. One fucking answer, then I’m going.”

His breath was hot and smelled of whiskey, making Ian’s dick tug beneath the layers of clothing. Mickey’s knee was tucked right into his crotch, and he felt a twinge of movement. He pulled his lips back from pervert Santa’s ear and laughed. Ian shrugged innocently, giving him a guilty smile in return, but waited for Mickey’s answer. Finally, Mickey leaned back in so only pervert Santa would hear his answer.

“I want this fucking tall drink of water I met the other night. He had this red fiery hair, and these fucking amazing green eyes, and freckles and shit. He was... fucking beautiful." Mickey confided. "That’s it. That's all I want for Christmas.” Mickey reached up to pinch pervert Santa’s cheeks as he pulled back, laughing at his own ridiculous drunk confession. “You think you can make that happen, old man?”

Ian smiled happily, completely lost for words at what he'd just heard. Mickey gave him an equally cheery smile in return, his glossy eyes barely able to focus on the old man's face. He swayed a bit on his lap, and Ian reached around, holding Mickey steady. He pointed at the camera. Mickey turned, looking as carefree and joyful as a child, and Ian's affectionate gaze staying fixed on him, when Debbie pressed the shutter button.

“Thanks again for the drinks, Santa. Sorry it didn’t work out between the two of us, but I think I might be spoken for.” Mickey said, stumbling quickly away from pervert Santa's lap. He took the undeveloped photo from Debbie and headed for the door to wait for his ride.

Ian called after him just as he was leaving, “It’s called _OOber_! Not _Yoober_!” Mickey replied with a middle finger held high in the air as he went out the door.


	4. SUNDAY

“Mickey! Wake your ass up!” Mandy threw a pillow at his head, hitting him twice before throwing his phone at him. “Your goddamn alarm has been going off for almost an hour! Get up!”

“Shit. Fuck… what time is it?” He grabbed blindly for his phone on the bed beside him, squinting as he tried to focus on the time.

“It’s almost one. Why the hell do you have an alarm set for the middle of the day anyway?”

Mickey sat up in bed and rubbed at his eyes. Why did he have an alarm set, he wondered? Mandy left his room but continued bitching at him as she went.

“Shut the fucking door.” He called after her, which she ignored.

He rolled out of bed, pushing the sheets off of himself and realized he was buck naked. There were tell tale signs of his late night ventures tossed on the floor beside the bed - a bottle of lube and a box of Kleenex with several discarded tissues thrown about. Thoughts of Ian popped into his head and reminded him why he hadn't fallen asleep until nearly three in the morning for the second time that week.

Mandy walked past his door just in time to catch a full frontal view of him sitting there naked, and groaned in disgust. He searched the floor under the bed until his hands landed on a pair of boxers, then slipped into them and headed for the shower.

Twenty minutes later he was dressed, refreshed, and ready to thump Mandy upside her head with his finger if she came at him again. He grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Mandy asked.

“Shopping.” He looked out the front window to check the weather, then grabbed a scarf to go with his jacket and gloves.

“Shopping? You mean Christmas shopping? NOW, at this time...on Christmas Eve?”

“Yes, fucking NOW, on Christmas Eve – It's the Annual Men’s Christmas Shopping Day, dontcha know. Need anything?” he asked.

“Yes, I need perfume. And some eggs and bread. Oh, and we’re almost out of toothpaste too, and pick up some…”

“Jesus Christ, just text me your fucking shopping list. And whatever fucking perfume you want – might as well make it easy for me.” He grumbled as he left.

“You’d better hurry up. Stores are all closing in a few hours.” He closed the door behind him and heard her yell, 'BUY ME CHOCOLATE TOO!"

He spent two hours at the mall. The crowds were significantly lighter than they had been just two days earlier, but the bargain deals and shelves were also significantly emptier as well. After much deliberation, he settled on a red sweater he had liked on one of the mannequins and Mandy’s favorite bottle of perfume. He took both to a gift wrapping center and paid to have them done up with bows and sprigs of holly and the two overpriced crystal ornaments he'd found for her.

He and his sister had never decorated the house or observed the holiday in any religious way, however, since leaving home when they were still in their teens, they tried to at least get the other something nice each Christmas and for birthdays. There would be no fancy dinners... Just junk food and Xbox. Sometimes Mandy would leave to spend time with her friends, leaving Mickey home alone most of the day, which he didn’t seem to mind at all. It’s was just the way things were on Christmas and he was ok with all of it.

The one special thing he did do was spend a little extra money to have her gifts wrapped beautifully with a new ornament each year. Someday they might actually put up a tree, or eventually she'd run off and get married and leave. Then she'd have those to use in her own home. Mandy never told him how much she loved them, but he knew she kept them carefully packed away in a box under her bed and took them out to look at each year.

An overhead announcement came as he was heading for his car, announcing the mall would be closing in an hour. He checked his phone for the grocery list Mandy had sent. She had been adding items to it the entire time he was gone, four of which were different types of chocolate, which she apparently knew he'd forget if it wasn't on the list. The snow had started falling while he’d been inside the mall, and the streets were getting dangerously slick as the sun began to set. By the time he reached the south side of town again, he was running the risk of missing the grocers before they closed as well, so he stopped at one a bit further from his neighborhood than usual.

The store was crowded with people and full carts in every aisle. The shelves were nearly cleaned out due not only to the upcoming holiday but also an impending blizzard which was expected to last more than a day. Mickey loaded up on the items Mandy had requested and a few extra munchies for Christmas day. As he looked to choose the shortest line for check out, and bright flash of red hair caught his eye a few rows away.

Ian. He was much closer to the front of the line than Mickey could hope to be, but Mickey made his way in that direction anyway. It was the Express Lane, serving only customers with 20 items or less. Mickey did a quick mental count of everything he had and decided 32 items was as close to 20 as anyone else in line. He made it a point to excuse himself loudly as he pushed through the crowd to stand in line, hoping to catch Ian's attention, and it had worked. Ian looked up just as Mickey fell to the back of the line.

“Hey Mickey.” Ian waved and gave him a warm, friendly smile. He moved to the next available self-check out and began ringing up his items at a snail’s pace.

The line moved quickly, but Ian was still fumbling through his handful of items, bagging them up slowly, when Mickey reached the front of the line. Ian paid, then grabbed his two bags and stepped over to the register where Mickey was now checking out.

“You just getting off work?” Mickey asked. Ian was dressed in his blue uniform, giving it away.

“Yeah, the fire station's just a couple blocks over. What are you doing out here? Do you live nearby?”

Mickey scanned his items expertly, bagging them and paying in record time in comparison to Ian’s slow check out. He pulled his receipt from the machine and grabbed a handful of bags in each hand to leave.

“No, I live a couple miles over. I thought your fire station was near the house.” Mickey said, realizing he had slipped by announcing he knew something about Ian’s job.

“Why would you think that?” Ian asked as they made their way to the front doors of the store, neither of them in a hurry to end their visit.

“Mandy went to a party last night with that friend of yours. It was out in my neighborhood. Guess I just thought that’s where your job was.”

“No. A good friend of ours owns the bar where we held it. Plus, I live over there too.” Ian said. Mickey turned to him surprised.

“You do?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, ‘bout a mile from the bar.” Ian answered. He stopped at the Red Box to browse the movies. Mickey stopped with him, leaning against the machine and taking the opportunity to take Ian In Uniform in. “Did you go... To the party, with your sister?”

“Nah..." Mickey lied. "Was busy.”

Ian smiled, realizing that either due to Mickey's drunken stupor the night before or Vee’s incredible make up job, Mickey was still none the wiser that he had been there and heard Mickey’s Christmas confession.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Maybe I would have run into you. I had to work, but got there before the party ended.”

Mickey silently kicked himself for leaving, even though it had been well after midnight before he’d called it a night. Ian picked two movies and waited for the machine to spit them out, then tucked them into his jacket. When they reached the front doors of the store, the snow had turned to near blizzard like conditions. Each of them took a moment to zip up their jackets and pull their scarves and gloves on.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around then, huh?” Ian asked, ready to turn toward the L to catch a train home. He hesitated, waiting for a response from Mickey.

Mickey stood there, biting his lip, not sure what to say. He wanted to ask Ian ... what? To go home with him? He'd taken his fair share of men home with him before, but those conversations had all started and ended with 'let's fuck.' No names were exchanged, no phone numbers, no kissing or holding hands, and definitely no return visits. But Ian... Ian was different. Mickey shook the stupor from his brain, knowing he needed to say something quick before Ian walked away from him again. Ian's waited patiently for him to answer.

“I can drop you at your house if you want? I got a car.” He pointed out into the snow covered parking lot, not at all sure which car was his anymore. “We’re going to the same neighborhood.”

Ian didn’t hesitate. He quickly turned to Mickey and said, “Yeah, sure! I’d love a ride.”

They trudged through the snow to Mickey’s car, and spent the next five minutes clearing it off as the engine warmed. It wasn't lost on either of them that in this storm it would have been quicker to take the train home. Ian climbed into the passenger seat, reaching down to slide the seat back a few inches and give his long legs some room. Mickey jumped in the car a second later, rubbing his hands together quickly to generate some heat. He turned the defroster up before taking off, the windshield already starting to get covered in snow, then eased out of the parking space.

The roads were more a sheet of ice, much worse than they had been when Mickey left the mall. There was still about five miles to their neighborhood, and cars were sliding around dangerously as last-minute shoppers made their ways back home. Mickey took it slow, sliding a few times when he came to stop signs and traffic signals but managing the roads well enough.

“Turn some music on, if you want.” Mickey said. He reached out to click the radio on for Ian, but Ian was busy looking at a few random items sitting in the middle console of the car.

“What’s this?”

He picked up the photo of Mickey sitting on Santa’s lap. Mickey tried to grab for it, but Ian pulled it out of reach from him. Mickey had to put his hands back on the wheel to keep from swerving in the snow.

“Nothing, give that to me.”

Ian turned on the overhead light to get a better look.

“Is that you? Sitting on Santa’s lap?” Ian teased. Mickey beautiful smiling at the camera, and Ian noticed himself staring admiringly at him when the photo was taken.

“Come on, man, give it to me.” Mickey complained as a blush rushed up his cheeks. He kept reaching out to grab the photo from Ian's hands.

“Why do you keep this in your car? Good times? Just a pleasant memories that you like to keep with you when you’re on the road? He’s hot! Did you get his phone number? Look at that belly! I’d definitely do him.” Ian mocked.

Mickey surprised him by pulling the car to the side of the road and throwing it into park.

“Give me the fucking picture!” He unbuckled his seat belt and reached across Ian to try to grab it, but Ian moved his long arms around keeping it just out of reach as Mickey wrestled to take it back.

Ian was laughing so hard he could barely speak as Mickey continued to fight to grab, but he managed to get out, “So, have you been naughty or nice this year, Mickey?”

Mickey froze when he heard the question, then sat quickly back into his own seat.

“The fuck did you just ask me?” He asked a little too seriously, all the fun from seconds before now gone.

Ian quickly sobered, “I, uh… I didn’t mean anything by it." He held the photo in front of him, taking one last look, then gave it back to Mickey. "Sorry. I was only joking around. Here.”

Mickey ignored him and the photo. Ian set it back in to the console where it had been before. The mood between them felt suddenly spoiled. Mickey buckled up again and put the car into drive. He eased down on the gas but the tires only spun on the ice beneath them.

“Fuck.” He turned his wheel sharply hoping to get a bit of traction, checking for traffic, then hit the gas once more. Nothing. He put the car in reverse and tried to roll it back a few inches, before going forward again. This time he moved about three feet before getting stuck in the deep snow that had accumulated at side of the road over the hours.

Ian pulled the handle on his door, “Hold up. Let me get behind you and push.” They attempted to get the car away from the curb three more times, but it was no use. The ice was solid below them and they were parked on enough of a hill that the only progress they seemed to be making was in a reverse.

“Motherfucker!” Mickey yelled, hitting the steering column as Ian jumped back into the front seat and brushed the layer of snow from his jacket. Mickey looked around. They were at least a mile from the nearest train station, but probably only a half mile from his house. He could have kicked himself for being so stupid to pull over in this storm.

“Listen, I’m sorry about this,” He started.

“No, don’t be. I’m sorry I was fucking around. I shouldn’t have done that, then maybe we wouldn’t be stuck out here.” Ian admitted.

Mickey considered it for a minute then laughed, “Yeah, fucker. You take the blame for all of this.” His mood once again relaxed.

Ian was just about to announce that his house was just a few blocks away, and they could both head over there if Mickey wanted to deal with the entire Gallagher household, when Mickey spoke up.

“Listen, I live about seven blocks from here. You want to just get out and walk? You can stay at my place, sleep on the couch if you want, and I can get you home to your family first thing in the morning. Or I can call you a cab from there. Let’s just get out of here before we fuckin’ freeze to death, ok?”

Ian smiled. “Yeah. That sounds good.” They grabbed their bags of food, and Mandy’s gifts, then Mickey tucked his Santa picture safely into his jacket pocket. He had planned on giving it to Mandy since, she was into that kind of sappy shit and he wasn’t.

The two men made their way through the snow slipping and laughing and talking too loudly. By the time they reached Mickey’s apartment, neither even cared how frozen and wet they were. They kicked off their shoes at the door and tossed their jackets onto the bench, then headed to the kitchen with the bags.

“Mandy! I brought home a stray I found out in the snow. Come out and say hello.” Mickey called.

A minute later Mandy came out of her room dressed in winter boots, and a warm sweater. She was tying a scarf around her neck as she headed to the kitchen.

“It better not be an actual stray dog, Mickey. I’ll fucking kill you if you brought a dog home again.”

Ian stood in the kitchen, his sweet puppy dog smile gracing his face as she entered. “Oh shit! Look who it is!” Mandy ran up and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as Ian grabbed hold of her.

“Jesus, Mandy! Don’t fuckin’ rape him!” Mickey noticed her jacket and purse waiting for her. “Where the fuck do you think you're going? You can’t go out there, the roads suck right now.”

“Fireman Fred is coming for me. He has an SUV and chains on his tires. I’ll be fine.” She answered. “Where the hell were you last night?” She asked Ian as he set her back down on the floor. Her arms stayed around his neck as they spoke.

“I was working. Got there pretty late, I must have missed you.” He lied.

Mandy’s eyes narrowed. She looked Ian in his eyes, and something familiar flashed between them. She tried to put her finger on something. Ian’s eyes darted to Mickey briefly, but Mickey was busy chugging down an icy cold beer on his way to the bathroom.

“ _You.._ ” Mandy said quietly and accusingly when it hit her.

“Me what?” Ian asked her cautiously, looking once again in Mickey’s general direction.

“ _YOU_ are Santa. Holy shit! I’m right, aren’t I?”

Ian’s smile immediately gave him away, even though he was shaking his head defiantly and laughing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _You’re_ the Santa that I kissed last night! Don’t you fucking dare tell me you don’t remember kissing me! I remember it. I remember you doing your damn best NOT to kiss me! It was you!”

“Ok ok! Shhhh! Keep your voice down. I don’t want Mickey to know.” He pleaded.

“Why the fuck not? He doesn't care.” She asked.

A motor revved out front, and Mandy knew Fireman Fred would be ringing the doorbell any second.

“I just… I tried to hit on him last night, and he got pissed off, ok! I don’t want him to know it was me.”

Mandy busted out laughing and the doorbell rang. She ignored it, “Are you fucking kidding me? You hit on my brother dressed up like some old fucking man?” The doorbell rang again.

“Mandy, answer the fucking door.” Mickey yelled from the bathroom. The toilet flushed a second later, so Mandy didn’t bother to leave the kitchen knowing he would be out any second.

“So, are you going to tell him?” The doorbell rang again.

“Fucking son of a bitch!” Mickey yelled out as he went down the hall toward the front door, “Just come the fuck in already and stop ringing the bell!”

“NO, I’m not going to tell him! I was going to, but then he…“ Ian stopped talking suddenly.

“He what!? What did he do?” Mandy insisted.

“He sat on my lap and told me what he wanted for Christmas.” Ian blurted out quietly, listening to the voices at the front of the house, making sure Mickey wasn’t about to walk in on their conversation.

“He fucking did not! I don’t believe you!”

“Swear to god he did. He even has a picture in his car, as proof.” Ian said.

Fireman Fred and Mickey were coming in their direction. Mandy stepped away from Ian, standing innocently as if they hadn’t been speaking at all, which immediately aroused Mickey’s suspicions.

“The fuck is going on in here?” He asked.

“Nothing.” They both answered simultaneously.

Ian reached his hand out toward Jeff as he entered the kitchen, “Hey Jeff, how’s it going? Long time no see.” Ian joked, having just gotten off a shift with Jeff a few hours earlier.

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to run into you here. I could have brought you by if I’d known.” Jeff offered.

“No, it’s ok. I ran into Mickey at the store. We got stuck in the snow a few blocks from here and just walked the rest of the way.” Ian said.

“I can give you a ride home if you want. Trucks all warmed up.” Mickey was standing there looking bored until Fireman Fred offered to take Ian away. He perked up quickly and waited on Ian's answer. Ian looked back at him for a few seconds.

“You know what, we rented a few movies. I thought maybe I’d hang out for a while, if that’s ok with you, Mickey.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows and feigned indifference. “Yeah, sure, do whatever you want, man. I got some munchies and shit to eat if you wanna stick around.”

Mandy turned and winked at Ian so that no one else could see her. “Ok, come on Fred, let’s get out of here.” She pulled Ian into a hug and whispered in his ear, “You’re giving me fucking details later, bitch, got it?” She kissed his cheek and walked away, taking Fireman Fred’s arm in hers.

Ian waited before they were gone then asked, “Does she know his name is Jeff?”

Mickey didn’t miss a beat before answering, “No, it’s Fred.”

***

They ate junk food and watched Jean Claude Van Damme movies which Mickey mocked the entire time Ian praised them. They played a few hours of Xbox, cooked pasta, talked about growing up on the south side and found out that they had even once played on the same Little League baseball team ages ago. Ian told Mickey about his family. Mickey never spoke of anyone but Mandy. The snow finally stopped long before their conversation died down, but neither mentioned it.

Mickey went to the front bench to grab the two presents he had left underneath his jacket when they’d come in. Mandy probably wouldn’t be home tonight or even first thing in the morning, but he wanted those to be the first things she saw when she went into her room. He set them on her bed, then remembered the photo. He went back to the door, and picked up Ian’s jacket. Ian’s heart immediately fell when he thought Mickey was about to tell him it was time to go. He stood up reluctantly, but instead Mickey dug in the closet for a hanger and tucked it in among the other jackets hanging there. Mickey grabbed his own jacket, feeling around each pocket for the photo he had tucked away, then hung his jacket next to Ian’s.

Mickey flung the photo at Ian like a Frisbee. “Here. One last laugh before it’s gone forever. I'm giving it to Mandy.”

Ian grabbed for the photo with both hands, being careful not to bend the edges. “Mandy? Why are you giving it to her?”

Mickey shrugged, “Don’t know. She likes shit like that. I’ll just lose it.”

Ian stared at the two of them in the photo, both of their faces full of joy and maybe even a little mischief after Mickey’s confession. He wanted to tuck the photo into his own pocket and keep it. He looked back at Mickey standing there with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed, waiting for Ian to make fun of him once again for sitting on Santa’s lap.

“What did you tell him you wanted for Christmas?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Mickey felt a flush rush up his cheeks, unable to hide the embarrassment of the memory of what he’d whispered in pervert Santa’s ear, now that his secret desire was standing right in front of him. “I didn’t tell him anything. It was just a picture.” He reached his hand out and waved it for Ian to hand the photo over.

Ian set it on the table beside the couch then took a few steps toward Mickey, slowly backing him up into the wall behind him. He leaned in close and spoke again quietly, “Come on, Mickey. Tell me what you wanted for Christmas.”

Mickey’s skin shivered and tingled as Ian reached around his neck, pulling Mickey close so that he could speak quietly right into his ear. “Tell me. What do you want?”

Ian’s pressed his crotch into Mickey's, and slipped his other hand down around Mickey’s waist, moving his fingers beneath Mickey shirt and caressing his skin. “Tell me.”

Mickey wet his lips, and pulled Ian closer, his open mouth moving along the rough scratch of Ian's five o’clock shadow.

“You. I told him I wanted you.” He whispered against Ian’s skin.

Ian turned and their lips locked as they groped and pulled at each other. This was exactly what Mickey wanted, but after spending hours laughing and talking and joking with Ian, he found himself wanting more. Kissing Ian brought it all crashing down on him, and it scared the shit out of him. His heart began to race and he panicked. All of it felt too passionate, and intimate, and personal - all things he didn't do, _ever_. He pushed Ian back, breaking their kiss suddenly, and caught his breath. He scrubbed his hands down his face and across his lips and tried to clear his head.

“Mickey, what’s wrong?'

“Nothing. Just give me a fuckin' minute ok?”

He pressed his hand against Ian’s chest, pushing him back a few inches. Their eyes met and held. “I don’t ... I just need a minute.”

“Did I do something?” Ian asked.

Mickey walked to the kitchen and filled a tall glass with cold water from the tap. Ian waited a second then followed behind him. Mickey gulped the water down, not looking back at Ian, then spoke. “I uhm… I’m sorry about that. It’s just... I don’t usually bring people home, you know? Not like this.”

“Like what?’ Ian pressed.

“Like this, like this! Like you, and all of this... this shit,” He moved his hands around wildly toward the bowls of left over pasta and snacks and movie cases strewn about. “I don’t do _this_ ok? And… I just wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off.

"What?"

Mickey didn't answer. He didn't even want to look up at Ian.

“Do you want me to leave? I can leave... if that's what you want.” Ian offered. “I don’t want to.” He added timidly.

The silence grew longer between them.

“Ok. I’m gonna go.” Ian walked to the closet where he jacket was hanging. Mickey came up and stood close behind him.

“Ian, wait." he wasn't sure where to start. "Just give me a second ok?” His heart was racing again as he reached for Ian’s hand. Only their fingertips touched at first. It was the most Mickey could bring himself to do at the moment. Ian turned and took Mickey’s whole hand in his own, slowly and carefully. He could feel Mickey’s urge to pull his hand back, but it never happened so Ian held on.

Mickey bit at his lip and searched around the room for words. He wrapped his fingers between Ian’s and stepped closer to him again.

“You know how you told me all about your family and how close you all are, and how they drive you fucking crazy all the time?”

Ian nodded and waited patiently for Mickey to continue, pulling him closer.

“Well, my family isn’t like that. My old man – he’s in prison. He tried to kill me... for being... you know, like I am. My brothers are locked up too. Shitty childhood, shitty life. Hell, I'm lucky I'm not in prison right now. It’s just been me and Mandy for more than ten or so years, and I guess that maybe that’s part of it, but…”

Mickey finally looked up at Ian, “I don’t do this.” He pointed between himself and Ian, “I don't fucking kiss or hold hands," Ian squeezed Mickey's hand gently, "You know, I don’t get involved with people… _men_ , because I have to keep her safe. And me too.”

“Is someone trying to hurt you?” Ian asked earnestly.

“No, not anymore.”

Ian pulled Mickey in close to him. “Do you still want me to leave?” He asked.

Mickey slipped a hand around the back of Ian’s neck again. “No. I don’t want you to leave, and I guess that’s the problem here. I want you to be here. I want to spend time with you, and get to know you, and fucking see your stupid fucking face when I wake up in the morning, and it … _fuck,_ It scares the shit out of me, you know?”

Ian leaned down to kiss Mickey. He wrapped his arms around him, allowing Mickey to set the pace. Their kisses grew deeper, and Mickey began to relax again. Ian pulled away and nodded.

“Ok, Mickey.”

“Ok what?” Mickey asked.

“Let’s do that. All of that.” Ian said. “Let’s wake up in the morning, together, so I can see your stupid fucking face.”


	5. CHRISTMAS DAY

Mickey woke to the sound of the hissing radiator. He was sprawled out on his belly like a starfish, the weight of Ian's body heavy on to of him. He should have panicked. He should have felt claustrophobic. He’d never woken up to someone in his bed, but he didn’t feel any of those things. Surprisingly, he felt content... and safe.

He wiggled beneath Ian, trying to free himself without waking him, but it was pointless. Ian reached up and wrapped his hand around Mickey’s, lacing their fingers into each other. He found the back of Mickey’s neck and left little kisses along his hairline.

“Morning.” Ian hummed into Mickey’s skin.

Mickey smiled, letting go of Ian’s hand to roam his body. Ian ran his fingers the length of Mickey's back slowly, caressing each crevice and curve of his muscles, then across that round ass that he loved so much, and finally to his thick thighs.

“God, Mickey, you’re so....”

"Don't fucking say it."

"Ok. Your _ass_ is so fucking beautiful," he said instead, grabbing a handful and squeezing.

He could feel the heat rise up the back of Mickey’s neck. He pulled himself up on his elbows and used his long legs to spread Mickey’s legs apart, then eased himself between them. Mickey stretched like a cat beneath him, lifting his ass up in the air like an offering to Ian.

Ian took his time, letting Mickey relax beneath him as they both slowly came fully awake. He kissed down Mickey’s back, speaking softly as he went, telling him how sexy he was, grabbing handfuls of Mickey's flesh and squeezing, devouring him through each touch, and showing him just how turned on he was.

Mickey responded in kind, moving beneath Ian, into Ian, encouraging each bite and kiss and touch. He reached down and stroked his own dick as Ian began to grind from behind.

Ian searched beneath the sheets for Mickey's pocket lube and squeezed the last of it out, warming it between his fingers. He reached down and spread Mickey’s cheeks, running his fingers slowly around the ring of muscles. He wasted little time working Mickey open.

Before Ian slipped is fingers away, Mickey reached down and held his hand down, pressing Ian's fingers deeper. They worked like this for several minutes, both of them stretching him open moved together and Mickey pushed his ass up into each touch.

“Fuck... That's good...I'm good.” Mickey said, feeling like he was ready to burst. He got up on his knees and Ian got in position behind him, but didn’t press forward.

Mickey reached back and slapped at Ian’s hip, “Come on, let’s fucking go.”

“Turn over.” Ian said, his voice deep and rough still.

Mickey lifted his head off the bed and looked back at him. “The fuck do you mean, _turn_ _over_. No. Let’s go.”

“No.” Ian moved from between Mickey’s legs then reached over and flipped Mickey over effortlessly. “I want to see you.”

Mickey wasn't used to anyone taking control the way Ian liked to. Normally he'd just tell a guy to fuck of or get out, but there was Ian, sitting above him waiting with his hard dick on hand and his chest heaving... and Mickey couldn't argue the fact that letting Ian take charge had worked out pretty well for him so far.

“Ok. All right. Let’s fucking do this.” Mickey reached up for Ian, pulling him on top of him. “Let’s see what you got, tough guy.”

Ian put both hands behind Mickey’s knees and pushed them up hard beside his chest, then moved himself so that the tip of his dick was bouncing and teasing at Mickey’s hole.

“Line me up.”

Mickey immediately did as he was told, holding Ian’s in hand. His eyes rolled closed as he enjoyed the feeling of taking Ian in, inch by inch. Ian took his sweet time, relishing in watching Mickey bite his bottom lip then giving him a satisfied grin when Ian was finally feel inside of him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mickey.” He was goddamn breathtaking to watch. Ian leaned forward, closing his mouth around Mickey’s. The new position pushed his cock even deeper into Mickey, making him let out an unexpected groan in Ian’s mouth.

“Holy shit, that feels good.” Mickey said, finally exhaling.

“You good?” Ian asked.

Mickey's legs were folded in half and pressed up against his chest, and he had a 9 inch piece of wood stuck up his ass, but yeah, he was good. 

“Fucking great. Now move.”

He stretched legs over Ian's shoulders and Ian began to move. They took it slow at first, giving Mickey time to adjust to this new position, but soon Mickey was lifting his ass off the bed for more. Ian teased him, pulling out to the tip, then pounding hard, earning an unexpected cry of pleasure from Mickey. He tried it again but Mickey was ready and wanting, taking everything Ian gave him like a champ, and making him work hard for those grunts and groans.

Mickey slipped his legs down around Ian's back, using them to pull him in harder and deeper, his own dick aching for relief, but before he could take hold of it, Ian reached for his hands and held them high about his head.

Ian leaned down, their mouths open, exchanging hot, heavy breaths, but both too tired to complete the kiss. He continued to thrust, beads of sweat mingling with Mickey's, and soon the moans of pleasure he had been working so hard for began.

“Fuuuck!” Mickey cried out as Ian moved into him over and over. Guttural moans escaped them both as their lips met.

Ian reached for Mickey's dick, running his finger along the leaking slit, then brought it to his lips. He leaned again and kissed Mickey, sharing the taste of him, then took hold of Mickey's dick and began to stroke.

They moved together over and over with Mickey’s legs hugging Ian tightly. He pulled him closer and moaned into Ian’s kiss.

“I’m gonna fucking come,”

Ian thrust hard, once, then twice, until Mickey was arching his back and burying his head into the pillow, his cum spurting between them.

Ian thrust again, working him through his orgasm, the ring of muscles now squeezing tightly at his own dick..

“Fuuuuuuuck!” Ian cried out, finally tipping over the edge. He fell into Mickey, rocking inside of him until he was spent, coming to rest with heated breaths and small kisses to Mickey's neck.

Slowly Mickey unfolded himself, letting his arms and legs fall from Ian's body and into the bed. They lay like this another minute before the heat and weight of Ian’s body became too much. Mickey tapped Ian, then pushed him away when he didn't move. Ian rolled to the side of him and grinned.

"That was fucking fantastic.” Mickey huffed. “We’re definitely doing that again.”

Ian pushed himself up, kissing Mickey quickly before dropping away again, “Merry Christmas, Mickey.”

“C'mere.” Mickey said, trying but failing to get Ian to move closer. They we're both completely spent. He settled for grabbing hold of Ian's hand, “Merry Christmas.”


	6. 1 YR LATER - CHRISTMAS DAY

## TUESDAY - CHRISTMAS DAY 1 YR LATER

“I’m not fucking going. No! Your fucking family is nuts, Ian. Take Mandy.” Mickey pulled the blankets up over his head.

Ian searched his drawers for a pair of clean boxers, ignoring Mickey’s whining. He threw a pair of jeans at Mickey and a pair of boxers, then grabbed clothes for himself.

“Hurry up. We gotta be there in less than an hour. Fred's gonna be here to pick us up any minute.' Ian said, completely ignoring Mickey's protest.

“Which part of fucking _No_ don’t you understand?” Mickey yelled as Ian headed for the bathroom wearing nothing at all.

“Ian put some goddamn clothes on!” Mandy yelled at him as they passed each other in the hallway. “Jesus Christ, I’m gonna start looking for my own damn apartment if you two keep running around here with your dicks hanging out!”

She marched off to her room to get dressed, stopping by Mickey’s bedroom door long enough to yell at him, “Get up and get dressed, asshole. They’re your fucking in-laws, not mine. If I have to suffer through it, so do you.”

Mickey pulled a pillow over his head to muffle the yell of frustration he let out. He held it there a moment longer, one hand laying over the other. It made him crazy, the way Ian and Mandy were always ganging up on him, like two little annoying peas in a pod. And now he had to deal with the Gallaghers as well. On their best days, they were a fucking pain in his ass, but they had been ten times worse over the past 24 hours since they found out Ian and Mickey had snuck down to the courthouse to get married without telling any of them. Today they would be facing the whole family in close quarters, and he knew they'd never hear the end of it. It was going to be a nightmare.

He considered pressing the pillow harder onto his face until he stopped breathing just to avoid Christmas morning with the new in-laws. He pressed one hand on top of the other, testing the idea out, but before he could pretend to suffocate himself the titanium wedding band on his finger caught his attention. He rolled the band around with his right forefinger, an involuntary smile crept onto his face. Mickey reached his hand out, blindly feeling around the night stand for the photo frame Mandy had left under the Christmas tree for them. He pulled it under the pillow and blankets with him, running his finger along the engraving on the bottom of the frame:

_'Ian & Mikhailo Milkovich ~ December 24th, 2018.'_

On the left side was the Polaroid of Mickey sitting on Santa Ian's lap. On the right was a picture of them both smiling happily, flipping Mandy off with their brand new wedding bands showing on their hands. Mandy had taken the picture of them just moments after getting married, standing outside of the courthouse. She had sent it in for one hour developing so she could frame it for them as a gift. Mickey ran a finger along Ian's face on their wedding photo. He loved that asshole and knew he would do anything for him as long as they lived, including spending every miserable holiday with his family if that’s what made Ian smile.

Mickey pulled the pillow from his face and tossed it on the bed next to him. Ian was standing over him next to the bed, fully dressed now, and smiling.

“Shut the fuck up and hand me a shirt.” Mickey grumbled as he finally sat up from the bed.


End file.
